


Genji and the Nutcracker

by Cuirlfox369



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU (sorta), Nutcracker AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuirlfox369/pseuds/Cuirlfox369
Summary: Perhaps you know the tale, but not quite like this: warring kingdoms, magic crystals, and- of course- it's Christmas. Genji and Hanzo Shimada travel to the house one Angela Ziegler for the holidays. Everything begins to go awry when Genji steps into a fight on behalf of a nutcracker. 
(AKA a fic inspired by the Winter Wonderland event and the Nutcracker-the original version, the ballet version, and yes even the Barbie version)





	

Their small car rumbled as it climbed the icy mountain. A green gloved hand wiped at the fogged window, revealing the snow-covered peaks that reached toward an overcast sky. The snow fell in gentle, lazy spirals, but the scenery served as no comfort to Genji Shimada. Lighthearted Christmas music filled the silence between the two brothers. Hanzo was intensely focused on navigating the slopes, as if his fiery gaze would melt the icy annoyance that was snow. It had singlehandedly turned the older Shimada’s schedule to shreds. Genji had claimed the backseat of the car for himself, but the extra space did little to ease the growing sense of dread in his stomach. Instinctively, he tugged his green hood lower, knowing it would do little to help what awaited him.

Then the house of one Angela Ziegler came into view. It held an older charm that was only accented by the snow-covered roof and golden strings of light. The rental car was swiftly maneuvered into the garage, where it fell in line alongside a handful of other vehicles. The light-hearted music came to a sudden stop as Hanzo all but leapt from his seat. 

“Just grab the gifts for now. We can come back for the luggage afterwards,” he said as he straightened out his navy coat. When no response came, he looked back to see that Genji had yet to move. With a sigh, he pulled open the car door. “You can’t stay out here. You’ll freeze to death.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Another time, they would have fought. They were running late, Hanzo was on edge, and Genji was being stubborn. A debate would drop down to insults until the fight turned physical. One of them would storm away eventually and the conflict would be shelved for another time.

For better or worse, this was not another time.

Hanzo placed a hand on his shoulder. “Genji… these are our friends. They know what happened.”

“But they haven’t seen it,” he answered morosely.

The elder Shimada shook his head. “They still care about you, no matter what you may look like.” A small smirk crossed his face as a thought occurred. “If the smoke bomb incident didn’t prove that, I don’t know what will.”

Genji smiled ever so slightly at that. “Mrs. Ziegler nearly killed me for what that did to her white carpet. Angela thought I would be her first real patient.” He slowly got out of the car and grabbed several brightly wrapped packages from the backseat. “If all else fails, we still bring the best presents.”

“There are some positives to being CEO of a large corporation,” Hanzo conceded as they made their way to the door. 

The memory had given a small reprieve from the sinking feeling in his gut. As they neared the door, it returned with a vengeance. He might have lingered outside were it not for the chill that nipped at any bare skin. The warmth of the house was quick to wash over them as they passed the threshold. 

The hostess was the first to greet them. At the age of thirty-seven, the wrath of time had yet to so much as glance at Angela Ziegler. She had intelligent blue eyes and golden blonde hair that was tied back neatly. “Hanzo! Genji! Come in, come in. You can leave your coats by the door.” She smiled at them both warmly, eyes lingering on Genji for a fraction longer than necessary, before looking to Hanzo once more. “I hope your flight went well.”

“For the most part,” Hanzo answered. “I still apologize for our lateness. Thank you for having us.”

“Nonsense! You are always welcome here,” she insisted. Now her attention fell on Genji. “Your recovery has been well, yes?”

Genji turned his head to avoid her gaze. “As well as possible.”

She paused for a moment, as if a thousand responses were on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she settled for a simple, “Alright.” Although a head shorter than either Shimada, she firmly grasped several presents from them. “We can take these to the den. The others are already there and I know they’re just dying to see you!”

Genji could hear their chatter from the hall. The booming voice of one Reinhardt Wilhelm-Amari carried quite far. Angela and Hanzo entered the room with little disturbance, save for a few quick greetings. Genji took a breath that did nothing to settle the nervousness in his chest before walking in. 

For a moment, it was silent.

Genji didn’t dare lift his head to look at their faces. He knew the looks well by now- a mix of shock and pity. Reality was far worse than any phone call or report could describe. 

(Hanzo had suggested a picture would put their minds at ease. Genji adamantly refused. No cameras had been allowed around him since.)

Ana Wilhelm-Amari was the first to speak. “The one year I get you something to go with that ghastly green in your hair, you don’t dye it. If you ever want my gift, you’ll have to change it back.”

Reinhardt’s booming laugh seemed to shatter the worst of the tension. Even Genji smiled a bit at that before following Angela to the tree. It was decorated to the brim with various ornaments and garlands that sparkled from the firelight. Genji hung by the fireplace for warmth and spared a glance at the other occupants of the room.

Ana and Reinhardt had a small table to themselves where they were playing chess and sipping tea. Reinhardt was a beast of a man that dwarfed everything around him, but any who knew them would tell you that the real one to be afraid of was Ana. She only had one eye, but she saw more than someone with ten. Now, they were both clad in knitted Christmas sweaters and cordially chatting with one another.

Across the room, Lúcio was animatedly telling Lena and Hana about a recent hockey game. He was acting it out more than he was speaking, but the two ladies were responding with equal enthusiasm. They were some of the youngest in their group, and the large mugs of hot chocolate nearby had done nothing to curb their energy. Their sweaters were less subtle then the Wilhelm-Amari’s; Lena’s was green like an elf’s with little golden bells, Hana’s had a rabbit on it and light-up snowflakes, and Lúcio’s seemed to be the source of a steady string of remixed Christmas songs.

The winner of the worst sweater, however, was a stranger with a cowboy hat. It was a garish shade of brown and yellow, decorated by Christmas trees, a wreath, guns, and bullets. In the middle of it all, four letters were written: BAMF. The man was casually leaning against the old, intricate grandfather clock as it ticked away.

After a pointed look from Hanzo, Genji pulled his hood lower and took a comfortable seat on the couch. 

In the time that followed, the others stopped by to chat. They were friendly and kind in each interaction, but when Genji met their eyes, he could still see the pity there. It sparked a turmoil in his chest. One portion held onto the understanding that they meant well. Another part of him burned with a mix of directionless anger, thinly constrained by the former. 

He could see Hanzo making his way to him- mostly likely to urge him to lighten up, at least for the holiday. Thankfully, the cowboy intercepted his path. It was almost amusing how quickly Hanzo’s face twisted with disgust.

“What does BAMF even mean?” There were several stray chuckles around the room.

“I’ll tell ya, but only if I can get yer name first, darlin,” the man answered with a drawling accent. 

Genji almost wanted to see how it played out. Instead, he rose from his seat and slipped into the hallway. The feeling of eyes watching him faded. It was a temporary reprieve, but one he was grateful for all the same. He was steeling himself to return when he heard it- a small voice coming from the kitchen. 

Curious and welcome for the distraction, he followed the sound gently. 

“Are you certain it will be tonight?” he heard Angela whisper urgently. She paused for a moment, as if listening to a response. Was she on the phone? “I can’t just tell them to leave! I-” Genji stepped into the doorway, nearly causing Angela to drop the tray she had been holding. Although she regained her composure in time to catch it, several walnuts went scattering across the floor.

Her reaction hurt, but he pushed it aside. “Is everything alright?” There was no phone in sight, just regular kitchen appliances, a few Christmas decorations and… a doll?

“Everything’s fine. You just startled me. B-because I didn’t hear you coming, not because of-”

“Angela, you said something about tonight.”

Blue eyes stared at him for a moment before the blonde began laughing. “No, no, you misunderstand. I was rehearsing! For a play!”

An eyebrow was raised as he bent down to pick up a few of the scattered walnuts. “A world renown doctor has time to be in a play?”

“The hospital is helping because it’s for charity. I have a small part, so it’s no trouble, and you know how Ana is always asking me to work less,” she supplied, a touch too quickly. Before Genji could ask anything else, she added, “Oh, could you also grab the nutcracker for me? My hands are a bit full.”

Slipping the walnuts into his jacket pocket, his eyes fell on the doll. It looked like an old-fashioned solider with a red jacket, navy gauntlets, crisp white pants, and gold buttons to accent it all. Its hands and revealed elbows had actual wooden joints that were so small, Genji would have missed them were it not for the slight change in coloration. There was a dark belt across its torso. A long white ponytail tied with red ribbons ran down its back. There were two more tufts of white on either side of its head, a white beard, and even a small white moustache. Between the moustache and the beard, there was an exposed row of white teeth.

“This is the nutcracker?”

“Yes,” Angela answered. “Is something wrong?”

“It seems too… detailed to use for walnuts. And its mouth is too small.”

“It’s for decoration, but I like to keep it with the tray all the same.” She bit her lip for a passing moment before adding, “If you want to hold onto him for me, you can. Just be careful with him. He may not seem like much, but… he really is a treasure.”

Genji glanced between Angela and the nutcracker before carefully picking it up. It felt surprisingly light in his hands. “Lead the way.”

They returned to the den, where little had changed. Hanzo, Ana and the cowboy were chatting about recreational weaponry. Lúcio and Reinhardt seemed to be in a deep discussion about music, while Hana and Lena were roasting marshmallows. Angela set the tray on the small coffee table in front of the couch before joining the other ladies by the fire. Although their gazes lingered on Genji longer than before, the man didn’t notice. He had settled back onto a corner of the couch and was looking over the nutcracker once more. Something about it had captured his thoughts. It sat there, unnamable and ever out of reach, and yet at the same time it was unrelentingly present.

Caught in his thoughts, Genji did not notice their looks. 

But Hanzo did.

He excused himself from speaking with McCree and Ana and moved to stand in front of his brother. “Genji,” he said quietly, “what are you doing?”

“Hanzo, why are you asking?” he countered, gaze trained on the nutcracker.

“You’re moping and staring at a do-”

“Nutcracker.”

“It’s a toy,” Hanzo hissed. “We didn’t come all this way just for you to-” He stopped himself and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Be sociable for one evening. Just talk.”

“I talked. I answered the same questions, said the same answers, ignored the same pitiful looks…” he trailed off with a shake of his head. His eyes never met his brother’s. “I’m fine just sitting here with the nutcracker.”

“Brother,” Hanzo said carefully, “put the doll down and look at me.”

“No.”

“Genji,” he warned as his hand tugged on the nutcracker, “you’re acting like a child.” 

“Let go!” Genji growled, stubbornly tightening his grip.

The room grew quieter at the start of their sudden tug of war. 

It felt silent when there was a loud crack.

Hanzo froze for a moment. Genji immediately pulled the nutcracker from his grasp and examined the damage. One arm had been twisted harshly at the elbow, breaking the intricate joint. Hanzo began an apology, but Genji refused to acknowledge it. Without a word, he stood and gently handed the nutcracker to Angela.

“I’m sorry about your nutcracker,” he said solemnly. Turning to the room with his eyes downcast, he added, “I’m going to bed early. Enjoy your evening.” 

He left without a second glance.

 

Having visited often in the past, Genji traversed the dark stairway and hall with ease. He settled into the room he often chose when visiting the Ziegler home. Any familiarity it held was no comfort as he closed the door. Even without the main light, the twinkling lights outside spilled golden hues into the room.

He moved sluggishly to the bed, but froze at the sight of the mirror.

In it, there was a man with scars across his face. Tufts of messy dark hair still slipped out from beneath a worn green hood. The shape of his face might have been handsome were it not for the gashes that marred the man’s cheeks, frozen in a state of incomplete healing. The man’s eyes were dark, and his gaze was empty.

He was a monster. He was pathetic. He was horrific, inside and out.

The many in the mirror was many things, but was certainly not Genji Shimada.

Genji Shimada was a young, handsome man with brightly colored hair. He was lively in every sense and enjoyed all that life had to offer. His eyes were bright sparks that could ignite fireworks, both in the hearts of temporary partners and- on some occasions- literal fireworks. Genji Shimada had lived for himself and all of his desires.

The man in the mirror was devoid of any desire.

It seemed easier to think that the real Genji Shimada was dead. The man in the mirror was merely a shell bearing his name.

Turning away, Genji collapsed on the bed. The sheets were cold, but smelled faintly of some flowery detergent. He let his thoughts drift aimlessly as his eyes followed the steady downward spirals of the snow outside his window.

 

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he woke to the sound of whispers in the hall. He heard the steady roll of a plastic wheels across the wooden floors. A shadow fell across the gap of light beneath the door. Genji waited for a knock that never came. Something was left in the doorway as the figure retreated. He waited until he heard the familiar click of Hanzo’s door being locked before he bothered to peer out into the hall. Unsurprisingly, his suitcase was laying there. 

He pulled it inside, contemplating changing into something more comfortable to sleep in. The idea was quickly ditched. The clothes felt fractionally warmer than the snow in the windowsill. He left the suitcase open in front of the room’s heater, resigning himself to his sweater and jeans for the night. It was warm enough to set the hoodie aside at least. Halfway through removing the article, several small walnuts fell and rolled across the floor.

The nutcracker returned once more to his thoughts. In his mind, Genji heard the crack of wood and saw the mangled artistry. The jolt of guilt was expected; the concern accompanying it was not. It suddenly seemed wrong to sleep without at least seeing how the doll was doing.

A voice in his head, sounding oddly like Hanzo, chided him for him childishness. It was a doll; it didn’t heal. It was broken and, until repaired, it would remain broken, regardless of anything Genji might do.

For better or worse, he had never made a habit of listening to Hanzo.

Genji Shimida crept downstairs with every bit the stealth of a ninja. There were no voices or noises to indicate that anyone remained in the den. It seemed the other guests had either gone to bed or left for the evening. The fireplace had dwindled considerably, but still gave enough light to see the greater portion of the room. Sitting on the small table that had once been shared by the Wilhelm-Amari’s was the nutcracker.

Genji closed the large door before nearing the toy. Its arm was in a makeshift sling- most likely Angela’s doing. The cloth, however, was a familiar shade of navy, patterned slightly by golden scales. Genji didn’t dwell on this as he picked up the surprisingly light doll and carried it to the soft couch. He kicked off his shoes and laid across the plush cushions

It seemed the most natural thing to begin to talk to it.

(He blamed it on the house full of childhood memories. He blamed it on a tired mind. He even blamed Hanzo, if for no other reason than that he could.) 

“I’m sorry about your arm. My brother and I aren’t the best at getting along, but I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.” He ran his fingers over the makeshift sling. “I’m sure someone can fix you. Me? The best doctors with the best practices did the best they could, and I still come out looking like the cover of a horror film.” Genji settled further down into the cushions. The warmth from the fire suddenly seemed quite pleasant. 

One hand rubbed the small wooden cheek of the nutcracker. “Somehow, I’ll find out what it is about you.” In the flickering firelight, it almost seemed as if the toy had smiled at him. When Genji looked again, however, it appeared the same as before. He stared, as if his persistence would recreate the illusion.

The grandfather clock continued to tick on. The fire crackled softly in the fireplace. With the nutcracker tucked gently in his arms, Genji Shimada felt his eyelids slowly grow heavy. For the second time that evening, he was asleep.

 

His dreams were comprised of a peaceful silence. His thoughts drifted aimlessly and settled on nothing. Distantly, he heard the familiar noises of the house. None of it stirred him to consciousness, until the ancient clock began to chime.

The first knoll jolted him awake. It took a moment for his memory to supply where he was and why.

By the second knoll, he was reaching for the nutcracker, only to grab at empty air. Any remnants of sleep fled in the face of his sudden panic.

Genji’s gaze fell to the floor beneath the couch. His shoes were there, but not the nutcracker. The clock continued to chime.

He lifted his head and finally saw the missing toy. It was sitting on the floor beneath the clock with its back to Genji. Even from behind, the man could clearly see the peculiar way its legs were folded. It was baffling in all aspects.

The world began to make even less sense when he finally looked at the grandfather clock. Standing above its face was a brilliant figure of gold and white. Wings of golden light and a shimmering staff solidified the angelic imagery. The angel allowed the clock to chime once more, but the twelfth would not come. With a wave of her staff, the pendulum froze mid-swing and the hands on the clock grew still.

At the base of the clock, two doors had been carved into the wood. Genji could recall tugging at the miniscule handles as a child, only to be shooed away by the older Mrs. Ziegler. Never had they shone any sign of moving.

Now, golden light shone around the edges of the doors. When it finally faded, the two doors swung open, and from them spilled a nightmare.

This figure was clad in a dark cloak, but the underside glowed bright blue. He could see no true eyes behind a dark, frost-coated mask. This figure was not alone; behind it, legions of black and blue soldiers marched onto the floor.

Genji wasn’t sure what to make of it. Then, the clawed hands of the dark figure pulled two dark shotguns from thin air and pointed them at his nutcracker.

The masked monster growled in a low voice, “Stand aside, toothpick.”

Even more surprising was that his nutcracker answered.

“Greetings.” His voice was calm and warm, yet it held an unusual distortion. As Genji watched, the nutcracker began floating slightly above the ground. Several small walnuts hovered around his head. “We welcome the holiday spirit here, but I am afraid that does not include you.”

‘I must be dreaming,’ Genji thought to himself as he observed the happenings in frozen silence.

With a wave of his shotgun, the soldiers began their attack. A cry came from the Christmas tree as a second army, clad in silver and gold, emerged from beneath the presents. The two armies collided in front the fireplace, casting shadows across the floor.

Genji’s focus remained on the nutcracker and the figure in black. The dark figure had vanished into smoke, only to reappear in the thick of the battlefield. Wherever he appeared, the shimmering soldiers would be defeated. For each one that was felled, however, the nutcracker would aid another. The walnuts hovered over soldiers, casting golden light on allies and violet upon enemies. At other times, they struck down foes with a fierce precision. Even the angel from the clock joined the fray, shining beams of gold and pale blue on the silver soldiers and even the Nutcracker himself.

The miniature battle was the most spectacular dream Genji had ever had.

It was clear that the dark army was at a disadvantage. The cloaked figure finally gave a call for retreat. Slowly, the men fled beneath the clock. The battle appeared to be won.

The Nutcracker floated behind the silver army, watching the remainder unfold. None were watching as smoke took form, inches behind the wooden soldier.

None were watching, except for Genji.

He saw a pistol rise, prepared to fire at point blank range, and reacted on sheer instinct. Genji threw the first thing his hands could find.

(Some iterations of this tale will attempt to tell you that it was a slipper. They are wrong.)

The smoky, cloaked figure was suddenly tackled by a gray, men’s winter boot.

Now, the Nutcracker faced Genji with wide eyes, but a grateful smile. Perhaps it was his sleep addled brain or perhaps it was simply the oddness of it all. Either way, with the nutcracker looking at him, Genji couldn’t help but smile back.

It was moment short-lived. The dark figure rose like a wraith and quickly reformed. When he reached into his cloak once more, Genji gripped his other shoe, prepared for another attack from the shotgun. Instead, the figure held a dark purple crystal in his hand.

“No!”

The next moment seemed all too slow and yet too fast. Something purple flew from the crystal. A walnut, emitting gold light, met it mid-air. They mixed and struck Genji with a flash.

The world spiraled before falling pitch black.

Distantly, through the haze of indiscernible white noise, he heard the clock finally strike twelve.

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn't be starting another fanfic. I've got too many things in the works as it is, but this took hold as soon as I saw the Zenyatta skin for Winter Wonderland. Mix that with a love of the Nutcracker story. I love the original, but admittedly I have drawn an embarrassing amount of inspiration from the Barbie version.
> 
> So! Might as well strike while the iron is hot and seasonal. I hope to at least have this complete before spring, so here's hoping.
> 
> No Beta reader, so be forgiving about any mistakes. I try my best, but I'm only human.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always really sweet and help with motivation! And of course, I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!


End file.
